


Golden Years My Ass

by Vanillabunches



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Comedy, Drugs, M/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, blaze it, probably not a lot of sex sorry, this may be mature later?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanillabunches/pseuds/Vanillabunches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No ma’am, I’m sorry but for the last time we legally cannot pawn off your baby.” Aoba hung up the phone with a resigned sigh. One day he was gonna have to ask his manager how to block that number.</p><p>Highschool AU; Aoba is a junior, Koujaku is a senior. I'm not completely sure what I'm gonna do with this but it'll be a multichapter fic composed of the characters doing dumb shit with the main focus being on Kouao idk</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Years My Ass

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't crack I promise

“No ma’am, I’m sorry but for the last time we legally cannot pawn off your baby.” Aoba hung up the phone with a resigned sigh. One day he was gonna have to ask his manager how to block that number.

The jingling of the bells that adorned the door to the pawn shop alerted the blue-haired teen to the entrance of customers. He looked up from the dingy fishing reel he was polishing to flash them a smile, but saw the room just as it was a few minutes prior, with no one in sight. Suspiciously cocking an eyebrow, he stepped up to the counter and gave the room another scan before he made the unfortunate mistake of glancing down. “Son of a-“

He momentarily caught sight of a plastic yellow blur before the toy smacked him in the face, hitting him square on the nose. “Sucker!” chirped a cocky and youthful voice, followed by the giggles of the assaulter’s comrades from their no-longer covert hideout underneath the counter.

“MY NOSE, IT’S BROKEN,” howled Aoba, dramatically doubling over and covering his nose with his hands while moaning painfully.

The three children who had stepped back from below the counter’s rim quickly transformed their amused expressions to that of horror and regret. “Wait, really?” quietly inquired the young girl, guiltily peering up at him over the surface of the table.

Rolling his eyes, he straightened his back and returned his hands to his side. “Psh, of course not, that was a plastic water gun,” replied Aoba, deftly hopping the counter and sliding off onto the other side. Instead of addressing the kids, he sprinted to the door of the shop and swung it open. Calling after who he assumed was responsible for the little shits screwing around in the shop, he irately shouted, “Listen mister, this isn’t a daycare you can just leave your kids at while you browse the bookstore, why don’t you buy a damn book about parenting while you’re there!”

The trio, who had then realized that they hadn’t actually done any harm, mutually decided to rectify that. Nao, an exuberant brown-haired second grader dressed in a onesie pajama outfit (“ _that bum can’t even dress his kids,”_ mused Aoba), was attempting to take the money from the cash register by standing on his older brother Kio’s back in order to better reach it. Mio, as usual, was dutifully supervising the heist with her arms crossed and sharp eyes trained on her brothers. Nao was wielding the high schooler’s keychain as his tool of choice (which he conveniently found next to the register), and was fixated on prying open the register with the bottle opener that was reserved for Aoba’s occasional ‘happy fun time’. After a split-second of consideration, Aoba felt he could really go for a ‘happy fun time’ after work today.

-

“I’m home!” hollered the teen into the entryway of his grandmother’s home. It was clean and simple, nothing special, but he felt comfortable there nonetheless.

An elderly voice sounded from the room next to him, the kitchen. “You’re back just in time for dinner, make yourself useful and set the table for me.” Aoba entered the room filled with the aroma of homemade stew, realizing just how hungry he was after a long day of school and work. “How was work?” questioned his grandmother, as she finished ladling the contents of their supper into the second bowl she had set in front of her. She carried the two bowls to the dining table as her grandson set about gathering napkins and utensils.

Tossing his backpack with his schoolwork in it to the ground, he responded with, “The usual, dealt with some idiots and daydreamed I had a job that didn’t make me want to commit arson on the building. This looks delicious!” His mouth began watering as the hearty stew’s fragrance wafted up to his nose. “Oh, plus I got my paycheck today,” he added as an afterthought. _“Good timing too,”_ he thought to himself, _“I think my porn subscription is about to expire, gotta renew that soon and take care of my priorities.”_

“I see, I take it that you’re ready to pay your own bills now then?” asked granny, her voice blatantly decorated with sarcasm.

“Did I say I received my paycheck? Oops, I meant to tell you that I’m poor.” Before she could rebuke his piss-poor excuse, he spooned a bit of the beef stew into his mouth and steered the conversation away from anything that could lead to her expressing disapproval and/or a reprimand. “Your cooking is as great as always, granny!”

The old woman’s take-shit-from-no-one demeanor combined with her stern expression was not foreign to the teen. “Of course it is, I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

“I’m just reminding you.” He smiled warmly at his grandma, and took another mouthful of stew.

-

Splayed out across his bed, Aoba was petting his dog Ren with his left hand and holding a pen in his right. The utensil hovered over the paper as he finished up the third paragraph of his essay over the events that led to the start of the Mexican revolution. Out of boredom, he absentmindedly doodled a circle in the margins of his paper. He added another next to the first. Then an oval. He grinned at his work of art, until he realized that he had used a pen instead of a pencil to draw the dick on his essay. He modified it with the addition of a few more circles, triangles, and a couple of lines.

“That can pass as a cat, right?” He looked towards Ren for a response, or some indication of one. The fluffy black dog cocked its head slightly. Aoba had the oddest feeling that his pet could understand him, so when he was alone he’d often talk to him (but only if he was alone). “Yeah, I think so too.”

He heard the familiar ring of his phone, and picked up the slim device to see who was calling. Lifting it to his ear, he began, “Yo Mizuki, what’s up?”

“I’m about to head out to a party, just thought I’d give you a call about hanging out soon since I haven’t seen you around lately. Have you been playing hooky or are you just straight up ignoring me?” He could hear the smile in the other boy’s voice- he couldn’t recall Mizuki ever having been bothered by him in the slightest. The senior was a grade above Aoba, so they didn’t have any classes together, but they’d been good friends since the younger had begun high school.

-

Aoba vividly remembered the situation in which they’d first met. It was his freshman year, and he was walking home after school one day. The distance from his house to the school wasn’t insane, but it was quite a walk. He couldn’t drive yet, and his grandmother was usually busy doing whatever the hell it was that old people do during the evening. It was getting dark and Aoba had stayed after a bit for some extra tutoring, when a group of juniors had intercepted him.

“Hey fish,” a shady-looking kid called out to him, “You interested in some of our goods?” The lanky high schooler pulled out a small Ziploc bag with some fuzzy looking green stuff in it. His friend stood behind him, snickering.

“Sorry, I don’t smoke,” replied Aoba, coolly brushing off the two. He continued on the sidewalk, but an arm struck out, blocking him.

“That wasn’t a question, it was a demand,” pressed the first guy.

The annoyed blue-haired teen pushed his arms out of the way and kept walking. “Actually, it was a question.”

“Hey, you think I’m joking?” Aoba suddenly felt pressure on his right shoulder, and was pinned up against the side of a brick building by his arm. He could smell the hot, disgusting breath of the assaulter, and grimaced.

He attempted to push the older boy off of him, but the second boy immediately held down his left arm, leaving him vulnerable “Get off me.”

“Not until you learn your lesson, bitch.” Fist pulled back and aimed at Aoba’s face, slim shady prepared to give his victim an uppercut, when he was swiftly jerked back by what looked like an invisible force by the collar of his shirt. He choked out a couple of breaths, then glanced up at the dark haired boy who had just tossed him to the ground. “Mizuki?” he asked dumbly, taking a few moments to gaze upward.

“Are you really beating up underclassmen for not buying your shitty weed? Get out of here.” The newcomer who commanded a sense of authority and  seemed to be called ‘Mizuki’ took a step forward, but the kid picked himself up off the ground and dusted himself off.

Sending a glare towards the other two boys, the lanky druggie elbowed his partner as a signal to depart and two crossed the street, not looking back.

“You okay?” inquired the burgundy haired kid, smiling and giving the confused freshman a quick wink. “Sorry about those assholes, they’ve been troubling a lot of kids recently.” He was wearing a black leather jacket and some jeans that looked uncomfortably tight which gave off a bit of a punk vibe, but Aoba assessed that he seemed to be a decent guy judging by his actions.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“I’m Mizuki, I’m a sophomore over at Platinum Jail. I’m assuming you attend it too?” Their school was actually called Platinum High, where they proudly claim that ‘our students ambition is as durable as platinum; it will never fade’. It wasn’t actually that terrible of a school, but due to the schools lengthy history since its establishment combined with the poor funding of public schools, it possessed an outdated infrastructure. Some students commented that it also slightly resembled a prison from the outside, and began calling it Platinum Jail, which caught on soon enough.

Aoba stuck a hand in the pocket of his jeans and gave a nod. “I’m a freshman, my name’s Aoba.” Giving the deserted bag of drugs on the sidewalk a sidelong glance, he added, “You can take those, I’m not into that kind of stuff.”

The older let loose a chuckle. “Not yet you aren’t, just wait a year or two. But if my suspicions are correct...”

Mizuki walked over and picked it up, opening the bag. He peered at it using the gradually fading sunlight, then gave it a sniff. He zipped it up and handed it to Aoba. “Are you planning on making soup anytime soon? If my nose is a valid source, then that’s a mixture of oregano and sage.”

Staring at the Ziploc with an expression of disbelief, Aoba replied, “This is probably the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.”

Grinning, the older boy took a step closer and gave him a welcoming clap on the shoulder. Mizuki’s green eyes met Aoba’s light brown ones. “Welcome to high school kiddo, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

-

“Heh, sorry. I’ve been busy with work lately, I’m trying to get a car that isn’t a total piece of shit,” responded the junior.

“Still got that ’94 Geo Prizm, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m hoping that I can get something from this century. Anyways, I’m free after school Thursday, does that work for you?”

He heard the muted ruffling of papers as Mizuki, he assumed, flipped through his agenda. “Sounds good, I’ll call you again to work out the details, I gotta run to this party. See you around, Aoba.”

“Later.” The teen closed the call, then set his phone on his side table.

Facing Ren, who was still on the bed, he noticed that his dog’s right paw was gently resting on his essay, as if he wanted his owner to return to his work. His small pink tongue hung out the side of his mouth as he gently panted, and Aoba lifted the small bundle of fur into his arms. “Or, I could just go to bed.” Ren’s eyes blankly stared back at him, and he continued to pant.

“I couldn’t agree more,” responded Aoba. He set his pet down on the comforter at the opposite end of the bed. He then undressed, put on a t-shirt and boxers, turned off the lights in his room, and slipped under his sheets. “Night, Ren,” he yawned sleepily, before giving into fatigue and drifting off.

 

 

 

 


End file.
